


A small baby girl's cries

by lillaseptember



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Addams Family Fusion, Blood and Gore, Gore, Mentions of Violence, Multi, morbid lecter family fluff, self-indulgent ridiculousness ahoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-28
Updated: 2016-02-28
Packaged: 2018-05-23 15:31:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6121059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lillaseptember/pseuds/lillaseptember
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>“Father and Papa adopted me when I was a baby. They found me on the doorstep on the night of a blue moon,” Abigail said seriously, brushing Bloody Mary’s hair. “Father says it was as magical as the first time he met Papa."</i><br/>- <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/5227331/chapters/12054194">It's My Favorite Story</a> by <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/users/harleygirl2648">harleygirl2648</a>.</p><hr/><p>The <strike>longer</strike> story of how Abigail came to be a part of The Lecter Family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A small baby girl's cries

**Author's Note:**

  * For [harleygirl2648](https://archiveofourown.org/users/harleygirl2648/gifts).



> Okay!
> 
> So. This has been a long time coming.
> 
> I am actually the _somewhat_ creator behind this AU. The _idea_ of an Addams Family fusion has been floating around for _quite_ a while, and I can take no credit _at all_ for all that work, but I _was_ the one to actually sit down and sort it out with [this post](http://stolligaseptember.tumblr.com/post/129411587842/the-addams-family-au) last summer.
> 
> But during this fall, the incredible, wonderful and _utterly lovely_ [harleygirl2648](http://archiveofourown.org/users/harleygirl2648) has been cultivating and developing the universe in her [Hannibal/Addams Family series.](http://archiveofourown.org/series/342634) And by now I consider the universe to belong to her. So this is very much just a guest writing appearance from me.
> 
> So yeah. This is really just my little ~~9500 word long~~ thank you note for all you've done for this post-TWOTL madness idea of mine, darling. I love you.

It had been a lovely evening at the genesis of the hurricane season. The wind had whistled through the door cracks and the rain had pummeled against the windows, as violent as merciless. Will could taste the electricity in the air on his tongue, metallic and stunning, and he exhaled deeply in contentment as the thunder struck, the very foundation of their home shuddering.

 

The living candles had crackled and offered a mellow illumination to their living room, occasionally supplemented by the lightning from outside. The rattle of the rain had been accompanied by the soft piano music coming from their old phonograph, and the storm had brought a nice serenity to their home.

 

“You know what your mother always used to say,” Jack said over his knitting, the double necked sweater he was currently working on for Brian and Jimmy hanging over his knees as he looked up over the brims of his glasses. “The best storms always comes by a blue moon.”

 

Hannibal had smiled fondly over the memory, but didn’t look up from his drawing table. Will didn’t know what he was working on, but he seemed quite engrossed by it. Bedelia sat on the other side of the room, nose buried deep in a book and a wine glass in hand. The ceiling had creaked with whatever mischief Alana and Margot had been up to, and the soft shuffling and grunting of Frederick being at work came from the kitchen.

 

Buster had lain at Will’s feet, content as could be with the belly rub he was receiving at the time. He was one of the few of the pack who really enjoyed a good thunder storm. The rest was tucked away in the east wing of the house, in their sound and light isolated rooms, with Winston acting as their moral support.

 

The thunder struck again, illuminating the room for one bright moment of blinding light, running hot and vivid through his system, through his spine all the way out to his fingertips, and Will was happy.

 

But as he inspected the storm, feeling the rain relentlessly beating at the windows and absentmindedly scratching behind Buster’s ear, he felt restless.

 

Like he was _missing_ something.

 

And the problem was that he couldn’t put his finger on exactly what it was.

 

“Darling?”

 

Turning around to face his husband, Hannibal had immediately looked up from his drawing, a fervent spark in his eyes as they landed on Will, and he had been both unwilling and incapable to fight the smile that spread across his face.

 

“Yes, dear?”

 

Will scooped up the terrier in his arms as Hannibal put down his pencil, and the world seemed to narrow, as it so often did whenever they decided to engage in conversation, until it was just the two of them, and Buster, left.

 

“It’s been a while since we were on a hunt, hasn’t it?”

 

Hannibal clasped his hands together in feigned contemplation and leaned further across his desk, closer to Will, as the spark in his eyes grew hotter.

 

“Yes it has.”

 

“Well…” A piercing scream suddenly interrupted Will’s train of thought, and the world suddenly expanded again, the barely illuminated room, Jack and Bedelia and the vicious storm outside flooding Will’s senses. He dropped Buster, much to the dog’s dismay, and tried to focus on the cry as Hannibal inspected him quizzically. “Did you hear that?”

 

“Hear what?” Hannibal asked tentatively, and his eyes followed Will with a worried glance as he rose to his feet.

 

“I thought I heard a cry,” Will explained as his own eyes travelled up to the high ceiling, inspecting the many fissures and flaking paint. “Beverly’s deathday was three months ago, right?”

 

“Yes,” Hannibal offered as he continued to follow Will’s motions as he hoovered over the window, his fingers gently pressing against the icy glass. “And she’s been very much at peace lately,” he continued with a small worry tainting his voice.

 

The clouds were a roaring and endless inky darkness above them, and the entire world was distorted with the heavy rainfall. It was _gorgeous_.

 

Strained his ears for the sound, he was just about to think that he had imagined it, when he heard it again. A jarring and miserable _mewling_ , that shook him to his bones, and he turned around again, nearly stumbling over the heavy drapery in his haste trying to locate its origin. But the heavy ruckus coming from Margot and Alana upstairs and the endless chiming and shuffling of Frederick wasn’t helping.

 

“Brother, dear?” Bedelia’s voice was distant and detached as she addressed him, not even bothering looking up from her book, delicately turning a page before taking an indifferent sip of her wine.

 

“You didn’t _hear_ that?” Will inquired again, worried that it really was just all in his head, when he heard it again. A desperate and distressing cry, coming from just outside…

 

“What are you hearing, Will?” Jack wondered as he put down his needles, removing his glasses as he followed Will’s long strides.

 

Will didn’t bother answering as he tore open the door, the storm welcoming him with its violent embrace. But it wasn’t the beauty or magnificence of the storm that caught his attention.

 

On their doorstep stood a small wicker basket, damp by the rain and tilting slightly. But inside it lay a small toddler, no, a _baby_ , squealing woefully and struggling against the many blankets they were wrapped into.

 

Will kneeled slowly next to the basket, hushing softly, gaining the baby’s attention too. Their crying subsided somewhat as they inspected him, but they still whined pitifully. He carefully reached out to caress their cheek, and was relieved when they didn’t protest the contact, but worried when their skin was freezing to the touch.

 

He glanced up at the storm again, frantically searching for any kind of trace of the baby’s parentage, but was only met with freezing winds and whipping raindrops. Looking down at the still weakly whimpering baby again, he noticed a small and soggy envelope nestled into the many blankets. And with only a moment of hesitation, he had scooped the baby into his arms and picked up the envelope, leaving the basket to wither away in the storm.

 

“Will?” Hannibal immediately inquired as he gently shut the door behind him again, his husband having risen from his drawing desk, a worried crease in between his brows.

 

“It’s a baby,” he declared as he looked down at the brittle little being in his embrace, his warmth already having started transferred to the freezing, poor thing. Their crying had finally stopped and their eyelids drooped lower as they settled deeper into his embrace, and Will could feel his heart flutter.

 

The statement had caught the attention of all of his companions, Hannibal slowly walking over, Jack putting away his knitting and even Bedelia looked up from her book.

 

“From the storm?” Jack asked.

 

“On our doorstep,” Will clarified as he rocked the baby softly, finding himself unable to tear his eyes away from them.

 

Hannibal approached carefully, his steps treading lightly against the hardwood floor. Will could feel the curiosity pouring off of him, and lifted his gaze to him, smiling faintly.

 

“There was a note,” he said as he handed the damp envelope over to his husband, letting him quench his curiosity as Will’s hands were otherwise busy anyhow.

 

Hannibal gently pried the envelope open, carefully unfolding the wet note, letting his eyes travel over the lines as he hummed thoughtfully to himself, Will finding his gaze returning to the small being who was quietly dozing in his arms.

 

“What does it say?” He eventually asked, forcing himself to look up at Hannibal again, and he met his husband’s illegible gaze.

 

“That her parents didn’t feel fit to take care of her. And that they hoped this would be a better home to her.”

 

 _A girl_ , Will thought, and the note sent a pleasant warmth spreading through his limbs, settling snugly in his gut. But holding Hannibal’s cold eyes, the warmth didn’t last for long.

 

“Rude?” It was a genuine inquiry, as he honestly didn’t know what was really stirring inside his husband’s head, and was curious to know his thoughts on the matter.

 

Hannibal was quiet for a moment, letting his eyes fall down to the small girl in Will’s arms as he pondered over his response.

 

“Sad,” he finally concluded, and Will could share that sentimentality.

 

The simply stood looking down at the orphaned girl for a while, an easy peace settling in between them. A peace that was left undisturbed until Bedelia sauntered over, wine glass swinging in her hand.

 

“I was just thinking it was about time you two bred.”

 

The remark rattled Will, and apparently Hannibal too, as they both simultaneously looked up at her in disbelief.

 

“What? Are you saying that _we_ should take care of her?” He could hear the mild terror in his own voice, but found himself only clutching the girl closer. And Bedelia just smirked at him with a sharp look.

 

“Well, don’t you think it’s about time for you to get out of that honeymoon phase of yours?”

 

Will’s vision tinted red and he was just on the verge of felling a jeering reply in that way only siblings can, when Hannibal stepped closer to him.

 

“We _have_ been talking about a family, Will,” he murmured softly, at least attempting to keep the exchange private. Will was a little dazed by the sudden mood shift, the look in Hannibal’s eyes erasing the rest of the world again, and he could feel his heart flutter again just by the thought of the word.

 

_Family._

 

But he could feel that small dread gnawing at the back of his mind, and was pleasantly surprised to find that holding the girl closer seemed to tame it somewhat.

 

“Yes, but so soon?”

 

Hannibal’s face cracked into a grin at that, and Will swore his heart could have clawed its way out of his chest, torn its way through his ribcage, and soared high into the sky.

 

“It _has_ been two years since our marriage, dear,” Hannibal reminded fondly, and Will went breathless just by the mentioning of it, reaching out to Hannibal to stabilize him.

 

“Already?”

 

And Hannibal hummed blissfully, grabbing hold of Will’s hand that had clutched on to his shoulder, kissing each of his knuckles tenderly before starting on his familiar trail up his arm.

 

“ _Caro mio_ …”

 

But he had not even made up to Will’s elbow when a dissonant explosion stole all of their attention. Buster yelped, loving lightning storms but being awfully frightened by dynamite, and Jack picked him up into his lap, soothing him gently. The baby girl squirmed awake in Will’s arms, but didn’t seem all too disturbed.

 

And as all of their heads turned to the grand staircase, Alana came running down, her hair on ends, soot all over her face and Margot hot on her heels, a wild ecstasy in both of their eyes.

 

“You won’t _believe_ …” She started, but stopped short as her eyes landed on the small bundle in Will’s arms, Margot bumping into her lightly. “ _Oh_.”

 

“Alana,” Hannibal smiled euphorically as he extended his arm to welcome them down. “Come say hi to your niece.”

 

“Oh!” Alana exclaimed in rapture, and she grabbed hold of Margot’s hand as they dashed down the last bit of the staircase.

“She’s beautiful,” Margot murmured as she gently reached out to stroke a gentle knuckle against the baby girl’s cheek. And beautiful she was. She had luminous green eyes that were full of life even despite her drowsiness, a tuft of dark hair and a smile that could enrapture the entire world as she giggled softly.

 

“What’s her name?” Alana asked as she was finally able to tear her gaze away from the little girl. And Will turned to his husband with a contemplative look.

 

“What _should_ we call her?”

 

Hannibal kept his gaze on the girl in question as he pondered on it for a few moments, gently pursing his lips as he thought.

 

“Abigail,” he finally declared with a reverent tone to his voice, his gaze so full of adoration that it could only be compared by the times he would look at Will.

 

“Abigail Lecter,” Will mused as she softly squirmed in his embrace, settling for yet another nap. And meeting his husband’s soft gaze, he couldn’t contain his smile any longer. “I like it.”

 

And the thunder struck outside as the rain whipped against the windows and the gale whirled in through the cracks in the façade of the mansion as the Lecter’s gained a family another family member.

 

But the awestruck moment was violently interrupted by a deafening crack followed by a heavy thud, and they all jumped out of startlement, looking around for the source of the noise.

 

“Oh look, Sheldon’s old chestnut tree,” Jack finally deduced, directing all of their attention out to the garden, to where the ancient tree had very clearly been struck by the lightning and split in half as a result. “We’ve been meaning to take that down for _months_.” 

 

* * *

 

The piercing shrieks nearly rattled the windows.

 

Hannibal tried, to no avail, to soothe little Abigail, but no matter what he attempted, nothing would comfort her. Not even sternly telling her to stop had helped. And the constant crying had nearly brought Alana to tears, and she had taken to covering her ears and buried her face in between her knees, trying to block out the entire world.

 

“ _Why_ does she have to scream so much?” She whined, her voice muffled from her awkward position and nearly drowned out by Abigail’s wailing.

 

“That’s what babies _do_ , Alana,” Hannibal scolded her as he gently bounced the howling baby in his arms. But the reprimand didn’t have the usual vigor behind it, as his ears also started to grow weary and he could feel the helplessness draining him. Will had reverted in on himself, lost in his own mind with a hand pressed over his eyes, and Bedelia looked like she was ready to chug down the entire bottle of wine she had in hand.

 

“Oh here, let me try!” Margot finally exclaimed, reaching out to grab hold of the little girl, which Hannibal gratefully handed over. Margot cradled her, her touch soft but steady. She swayed gently and tried to lull Abigail for a good two or three moments before giving up and abruptly handing her back to Hannibal, causing her to cry even more heartily. “Nevermind.”

 

And Hannibal was just about to join his sister’s feeble surrender when their father finally came back out of the kitchen, a glass bottle full of white liquid in hand.

 

“Okay kids, gather ‘roud.” They quickly did what they had been told, as they often did the few times Jack went into authority mode. “Hand her over,” he said as he gestured to Hannibal, who was still weakly rocking the crying girl.

 

He looked awfully confident in doing whatever he thought he was doing, and Hannibal promptly did as he was told, settling the hollering Abigail’s in his father’s embrace.

 

He felt awful. Every cry coming from the little girl felt like a knife stab in the gut, and _not_ the fun kind. He had never liked feeling powerless, but now he was so utterly so, incapable of helping the little girl he had already taken to heart so completely. And all he could do was watch as Jack carefully cradled her, her cheeks burning red from all the screaming and tears and snot running messy along her cheeks and chin.

 

Hannibal felt the irrational impulse to reach out and tidy her up, but fought it down as he figured he’d let his father have this moment.

 

Jack sat down in his favorite chair as he lulled her, slowly raising the bottle as he did. And as her screams quieted down somewhat, he offered her the teat, which she greedily accepted.

 

“Yeah, _that’s_ better, ain’t it, baby girl?”

 

Hannibal exhaled deeply, releasing a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding, his shoulders losing their anxious tension. Will returned to the land of the living, his eyes shining brightly with disbelief and Alana looked up from her seclusion. And they all looked on in astounded silence as Abigail gratefully drank her milk.

 

Alana was the first one to break the quite enchanted moment.

 

“How do _you_ know so much about babies?”

 

Their father looked up at them with a scornful look.

 

“I _did_ raise the two of you.”

 

“You talked to mother, didn’t you?” Hannibal inquired before he could stop himself, thinking he had heard the familiar whispers of his father’s conjuring spell, and grinned smugly. Jack’s look immediately turned abashed, and he looked down at Abigail again, who was already well past half of her bottle.

 

“If only to refresh a thing or two,” his father mumbled, trying to hide the chagrin in his voice as he gently swayed the small girl in his arms, and Hannibal could see the adoration softly shining in his dark eyes. “I _did_ help raise the two of you, you know,” he offered a little more modestly this time, looking up at his two children, Hannibal having taken a seat next to Alana on the couch, exhaustion wearing at his knees

 

“Well, we wouldn’t remember that, would we?” Alana said as she continued to watch, transfixed, as little Abigail continued to eat.

 

Watching his father feed the baby girl, Hannibal did recall some vague memories of Jack sitting in that exact position, in his old, worn favorite chair and a bottle in hand, feeding little baby Alana. But he mostly remembered their late mother taking care of things, bless her lost heart. But he figured that was not the moment to speak up.

 

And so they all continued to watch as Abigail eventually finished the bottle, and she gurgled contently as Jack put it down on the side table.

 

“Yeah, that’s _much_ better, ain’t it?” Jack crooned over her, and she giggled in delight as he gently tickled her chin.

 

“She stopped screaming,” Will breathed incredulously, looking all but bewildered. “Oh thank the morning star, I thought my headache was going to kill me.”

 

“Will,” Hannibal gently chided him, but his husband payed him no heed.

 

“I need to go lie down,” he announced, quickly and gracefully making his way up the stairs, Hannibal’s eyes following his every movement. Hannibal let him go, knowing painfully well that he needed the time and space to recover.

 

And the little girl anyhow had him quite enthralled.

 

The rest of them was content to simply admire the satisfied Abigail for a while, her incoherent gurgling and babbling and occasional burp surprisingly entertaining. But it wasn’t long before her eyelids started fluttering, snuggling up in her grandfather’s embrace.

 

“Oh, is she going to sleep again?” Alana whined, disappointment staining her voice and shining clear in her eyes.

 

“That’s what babies _do_ , Alana,” Hannibal reminded her. “Eat and sleep.”

 

“When will she be able to _play_ then?” His baby sister inquired, all but jouncing from her impatience.

 

“Not for quite some time yet,” he replied, feeling a small smile tug at his lip. He quite looked forward to the future that lay ahead of them all, and all the adventures it would surely hold. Will had been right, Abigail had been an unexpected but _far_ from unwanted surprise, and he was excited to see what wonders she would have in store.

 

That was, until the smell struck.

 

“Eat and sleep and…” Margot gagged before she had the chance to finish the sentence, clasping a hand across her mouth. Alana’s eyes widened to a comically large size, the smell was far from benevolent on Hannibal’s keen nose, and Bedelia looked certainly terrified.

 

“Oh no,” Jack declared as he abruptly stood up, stretching the sleeping Abigail as far away from himself as he could, rattling her awake in the process, the poor girl starting screaming again. She was once again promptly thrusted into Hannibal’s helpless hands, and Jack and the girls quickly fled the room before he really had time to understand what was happening. And just like that, there was only him, Abigail and Bedelia left in the living room, and his sister-in-law gave him a terrified and terrifying look as she inhaled sharply.

 

“Don’t you _dare_ …”

 

But a baby was dangling by her hands and Hannibal was nowhere to be found before she even had the chance to react. And looking down at the sniveling mess in her hands, a shiver ran down her spine as the girl’s cries echoed in her ears.

 

“Urgh.”

 

Closing her eyes to try and compose what was left of her dignity as the reeking bundle of screams continued to thrash in her hands, she was met with a waving piece of white cloth as she opened them again. Walking over to the table where Miriam had acquired all required utensils, Bedelia smiled gratefully as she accepted the napkin.

“Thank you, Miriam.”

 

But it was a struggle to stay grateful as she tried not to gag.

 

* * *

 

Those first few weeks were quite turbulent. Despite all of Jack’s so called experience, they were all really just grasping at thin air, no one having a clue what they were doing. But Abigail was a determined and purposeful little girl, immediately objecting when something wasn’t to her liking, and with a tiny bit of help from Mrs. Lecter, they all slowly learned.

 

Bedelia was the one to keep track of all of her scheduled routines, of when she would be needing a nap or when to eat. Jack was the one having most success in feeding her, his very presence calming and placating. Alana and Margot were the best ones to cheer her up when she was being cranky while Miriam kept track of her pacifiers and stuffed wendigo.

 

Will had the best hand in calming her down whenever she was distraught, and Hannibal was the only one not struggling to get her to sleep, his rich baritone lulling her to peaceful dreams in just a few beats.

 

Will had never dared dream much of a child. The very idea had always seemed so foreign and out of reach, and it wasn’t until he had met Hannibal he had dared to nourish that hollow wistfulness in his chest. But even then it had always seemed like such a faraway dream, a wish that was doomed to never come true.

 

Then Abigail had quite abruptly and very literally emerged on their doorstep, like a blessing from the storm, an answer to all of Will’s silent prayers.

 

It had taken some time to get used to, the idea that Abigail was his, that he was to be responsible for and ward a small life, her life choices being so very connected to his own. Her heart was beating strong and her eyes held so many promises of things to see and do, and Will was overcome with the beauty that was life every time he held her, her presence the one source of light he found he could dwell forever in.

 

And it was with adoration shining bright in both of their eyes that he and Hannibal inspected _their_ little baby girl as she prattled on joyously, her chubby little hands reaching up, trying to grab a hold of the bird skulls and daggers dangling from her baby gym.

 

Will was dragged out of his contemplations as a broad nose nudged at his hand. He instinctively reached up to pet the newly arrived companion, but his hand just slipped through soft tufts of fur as the dog gently made his way over to the unfamiliar being in between his masters.

 

“Now, now, Winston. Be _careful_ ,” he chastised as the dog crouched down to gently sniff at the interloper. But Abigail just giggled excitedly as she tried to tug at his fuzzy ear, but seeing how her ability to grip things at will having not fully developed yet, she just grasped at thin air instead. But Winston seemed content, nudging at her cheek softly before strolling over to Will’s again, curling into his side and seemingly taking a nap. Abigail followed his movements with apparent curiosity, and Will smiled as he absentmindedly started rubbing along the sore neck of his old friend.

 

“You shouldn’t look after the rest of the pack?” Hannibal suddenly chimed from his position laying alongside Abigail, suit jacket discarded and the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up, looking uncommonly casual and utterly delighted as he inspected Will.

 

“Alana’s got that covered,” he answered absently as he allowed his gaze to drift to the happily squirming Abigail again. But Hannibal chuckled, and he forced himself to consider his husband again.

 

“I never would have thought something could steal your favor so thoroughly,” he said with a flagrant grin, the grin that had captured Will’s heart, made him throw family honor to the wind and inspired all kinds of wicked malevolence in him. And he met it with a fond but scolding look.

 

“I am _not_ playing favorites,” Will declared, meeting his husband’s amused gaze as he gently scratched behind one of Winston’s ears, the dog puffing in approval. “I am simply rescheduling.”

 

He held his high defiantly high, daring his husband to challenge him as a smirk curled at the corner of his lips. But Hannibal just chuckled again, before reaching out to gently tickle Abigail’s belly, the girl shrieking in delight as her father distracted her from her futile grabbing at the toys.

 

“I never imagined one could be this happy,” he suddenly stated, feeling the comforting kind of warmth seeping from Winston at his side, rising in his chest as he watched Hannibal play with their daughter, spreading out through his body as he allowed the utter and sheer joy wash over him. Hannibal tore his attention away from Abigail, his ardent devotion now split between two different entities, and still learning how to divide it most effectively, and he inspected Will intently.

 

“No?”

 

“I cannot think of a single thing to ask for,” Will murmured as shuffled closer, Hannibal’s eyes lighting up as he reached out to grab a hold of Will’s hand.

 

“ _Mi amore_ ,” he purred before he pressed a tender kiss to Will’s palm, even the simplest of contact setting Will’s blood aflame, cursing roaring hot through his veins, his nerves tingling with anticipation and dread and…

 

They were both dragged out of their shared trance by Abigail’s sudden shriek, a piercing thing that rattled the both of them to their bones, frustration evident on her small face as she had apparently all but been able to grab hold of the stiletto dagger dangling just out of her reach. Immediately following her squeal had been the dull thump of the portrait of old Georgia hanging just by the fireplace having fallen down.

 

Hannibal frowned softly.

 

“That’s odd. Great-grandpapa nailed her all the way to the other side of the wall himself.”

 

“Who was that?” The wild query came from atop the stairs, immediately followed by the feral chaos of Margot, all just tousled hair and the blurred barrel of her rifle as she frantically scanned her surroundings. “I’m gonna shoot ‘em!”

 

Hannibal shared a quick and amused look with him before he addressed his sister-in-law with his most reassuring voice.

 

“That won’t be necessary, dear.”

 

Margot slowly lowered the rifle, but still had an unruly and distrustful look in her eyes as she searched for the culprit, and Will couldn’t fight the goodhearted chuckle that escaped as she sullenly trudged up the stairs again.

 

* * *

 

Margot and Alana had never been _officially_ requested to babysit. They had eagerly offered, but had always been met with quite determined and even aggressive “no’s” every time they wanted to take little Abigail with them on Randall’s daily walks to the swamp, spelunking or even something as innocent as dynamite fishing.

 

And as the months slowly passed, they soon found that they had not been allowed one single moment alone with their new family member. So one afternoon when both Hannibal and Will had returned to their work, they had kidnapped her. _Well_. “Chosen to spend some quality time with” may have been the better phrase.

 

And she had giggled so excitedly when they had taken her out of her crib, she must also have been bored out her mind, being forced to do nothing but to look up at her dull knife mobile all day. And really, they were probably doing _everyone_ a favor.

 

And they were _awesome_ babysitters, in their own humble opinion. They had not even chosen to do something _exciting_ , they had just settled on a quiet afternoon indoors.

 

Abigail had apparently just learned how to roll around, and she was blissfully rolling all over the Persian rug in the play room, laughing merrily. Alana and Margot were lying side by side on their bellies, watching her squirm about and exploring this new area. Frederick had sneaked in not long after their own arrival, feather duster at the ready, and was at the time going mercilessly at the fireplace.

 

Abigail cooed curiously as she rolled into the old armor, tiny hands gripping at the shiny metal. Alana smiled as she watched her, and was just about to rise to go after the matching axe to show her, when Margot’s soft voice interrupted her.

 

“Do you think we’ll get a baby of our own one day?”

 

Alana looked up at her wife in surprise, but she was still inspecting their niece with a pensive expression. The thought of Margot cradling a little baby the same way she had watched Will or Hannibal do so many times, with love and adoration shining so brightly and fiercely in their eyes, made her heart flutter, and she had to rein in the excitement in her voice.

 

“Do you want to?”

 

“I…” Margot hesitated momentarily as she finally turned to face Alana, her brows scrunched together in equivocality, but her eyes burning with a cautious hope. “Believe so.”

 

Alana couldn’t help grinning, and Margot smiled too, fangs as keen as a wolf’s. And something settled in between them that moment, an understanding, a _promise_ , that someday… But right then they had a responsibility as babysitters to maintain, and they had the rest of their lives to come up with all wicked sorts of plans.

 

So; “Me too,” was what Alana settled on responding with as she reached out to grab Margot’s hand, squeezing it softly.

 

But their sweet little moment was quickly ruined by a strangely heaving sound, and after that an unmistakable piercing scream. And looking up to where Abigail had rolled over to the other end of the rug, she was now crying profoundly while covered in the white goo they had all grown quite accustomed to in the last couple of months.

 

And both of them panicked.

 

They didn’t know how to take care of a crying _baby_. And after having run around each other in circles and muttering “oh no, oh _no_ ” under their breaths for a few moments, Alana had decided to do what she had always done.

 

Put the blame on someone else.

 

So she had scooped up the vomit covered and screaming baby from the floor, and propped her in Frederick’s unsuspecting hands, and he had grunted in confusion as the feather duster had suddenly been replaced with a howling and kicking little bundle of flesh in his scarred hands. And both Alana and Margot had fled the room before he had had the chance to enunciate is disapproval.

 

And standing around with a shrieking, thrashing and vomit covered baby in hand was exactly how Bedelia had found him a few moments later, bewilderment remarkably evident on her face.

 

“ _Frederick?”_

 

And he had just groaned helplessly as Abigail had continued to angrily kick around in his grasp.

 

* * *

 

The family’s otherwise so frequent socializing had been on a backburner those first few months. They had decided to retire momentarily from the social scene, not attending any galas or charities, not hosting any dinners or parties, all to focus on little Abigail. She had easily swallowed up all of their time, and it was with somewhat of a startle that Hannibal had been forced to realize it had been over five months since she had first appeared on their doorstep, once Clark Ingram insisted on inviting himself over for dinner.

 

Will accepted the news of the event with somewhat of a pout, Abigail sleeping curled up in his lap as he was feeding the pack. Hannibal knew he had quite enjoyed their decline in socializing, never having been a fan of it even before Abigail. But he had assured him that it would only be Mr. Ingram himself, and that it was crucial Hannibal kept his good reputation at the _Caballus_ Club. And so Will had sighed before declaring that he would obtain the meat for the occasion.

 

It had been a dreadfully bright Sunday afternoon when Ingram had strutted into their home, Frederick lurking close behind, ready to snatch his hat off his head the moment he stopped to inspect his surroundings. Hannibal noticed how he stopped short as his eyes landed on old Matthew, but decided to give him the benefit of a doubt.

 

“Mr. Ingram!” He called from his place by the drawing desk, attracting the other man’s attention, much to his obvious relief. He had just walked over to shake his hand, passing the required pleasantries, as Will made his way over from where he had been sitting by his lure making station. Hannibal smiled at him brightly as he reached out to hold his hand. “Clark, this is my husband, Will.”

 

“How do you do?” Will inquired as he smiled coolly and offered his hand to be shaken.

 

“I am doing very fine Mr. Lecter,” Ingram replied with a smile that didn’t quite reach all the way up to his eyes. Hannibal had prepared him for his meeting with his spouse, but he still seemed relieved as he let Will’s hand go, and quickly gave the living room another once over. “This is a mighty fine house you have found yourself in.”

 

The lie was blatantly clear in his eyes, but Hannibal still forced himself to smile courteously.

 

“Yes,” he gritted between clenched teeth and his forced smile. _That was going to be one long dinner._ “Been in the family for generations. Finest estate in the county, if you ask the right people.”

 

Ingram laughed at that, and Will placed a soothing hand on his arm, giving him a warning look. That was their first time back in the social spotlight after Abigail, and it would be wise to not have the evening end in a bloodbath, no matter how satisfying it might have been.

 

“But you must tell me,” Ingram started as he made his way across the room, stopping right under the leg sticking out of the mouth of the mounted stag head. “What is the meaning behind this peculiar piece?”

 

“Oh, that is our cousin Matthew,” Hannibal explained as he followed him, Will’s arm linked in his. “Quite the ardent hunter, he set about going after the legendary Ravenstag. No one knows what really happened that night, other than that they seems to have ended in quite the zero-sum game.”

 

“And the rest is, well, taxidermy,” Will said as he smiled up at him, and Hannibal petted the hand that rested on his arm, vexed that their guest stood in the way for a more wholehearted display of affection. But Ingram immediately shrugged away from the installation, and nearly tripped over Winston that had made his way up to them, all but yelping as he tried to find his footing again.

 

They inspected him coolly as his eyes skittered over their home, frantically trying to settle on something to inquire about or comment on, but not seeming to find anything suitable enough. And relief shone brightly in his eyes as they finally landed on Bedelia, which was slowly making her way down the stairs.

 

“What a beautiful baby!” He immediately proclaimed as he noticed little Abigail cradled in her arms, and carefully made his way across the room again towards them. “She really takes after her mother,” he said with a dashing smile as they followed him, and Hannibal was impressed that Bedelia didn’t turn up her nose.

 

“She’s not mine,” she just answered in a dull voice instead, giving a pointed look in Will and Hannibal’s direction. Abigail immediately squealed and reached out to them as they came into her view, and Bedelia and Will effortlessly exchanged the role as her keeper.

 

“Yes,” Hannibal clarified at Ingram’s rather crudely surprised look. “Abigail’s _our_ little pride and joy.”

 

“Oh,” Ingram mumbled before he seemed to shake himself out of his reverie. “Well, she really is very beautiful.”

 

“She is, isn’t she?” Will hummed as he gently bumped his forehead against hers, and Abigail giggled in rapture. Hannibal smiled as he watched them, his heart swelling in his chest, but forced himself to turn back to his guest.

 

“Well, who’s ready for dinner?”

 

Jack had helped with the cuisine while Alana and Margot had helped with the decorations. A centerpiece worthy of the Lecter’s return to the social scene had been required, and a stag skull surrounded by wilting roses and raven feathers, ripe figs and plump grapes had seemed appropriate for the occasion. Ingram had also eyed _that_ warily, but had smiled as he had accepted his seat right next to Hannibal at the head of the table.

 

“ _Poisson-loup au bleau_ ,” Hannibal declared as he set the plates down on the table, Margot trailing behind him as his assistant. “Served with vegetables and broth, hollandaise sauce on the side.”

 

They all settled into their seats, Alana, Jack and Margot next to Ingram and Abigail sitting propped up in her hand carved highchair on the other side of Hannibal, Will and Bedelia next to her. Ingram was the first to dig into the meal while Abigail messily splashing about with her sweet potato puree. He had hesitantly eyed the dish, the fish presented with its own tail stuffed down their mouth. But once he had taken a cautious bite of the wolf’s flesh, he had hummed in delight.

 

“This fish is absolutely delicious, Hannibal.”

 

“It’s all thanks to Will,” he replied proudly.

 

“You must be an excellent fisherman, Mr. Lecter.”

 

“That I am,” Will answered with a wicked smile before biting down around his fork. They fell into a silence after that, all of them focusing on their own meals. The sound of their cutlery against the chinaware were the only sounds audible in the darkly lit room, heavy curtains shutting out the glaring sunlight and soft candlelight acting as their only source of light. That and little Abigail, who was in an exceptionally good mood, merrily and endlessly babbling on as she played about with her own serving, Will occasionally pausing his own meal to help her actually _eat_ some of it.

 

Hannibal took a slow sip of wine, an old Bourgueil that he hadn’t known what else to do with, letting the slightly bitter tones wash over the ample taste of the fish. He inspected his guest, who was happily gulfing down the meal, and tried not to let his mind wander _too_ far.

 

Meanwhile, Alana could have sworn she saw the feathers of the centerpiece ruffle softly, but noting how no one else seemed to have noticed, she decided to pay it no mind.

 

“I must ask you Clark,” Hannibal finally said as he idly twisted the stem of his wineglass in hand. “Why was it so crucial that we had this gathering today?”

 

Ingram looked up from his plate, where he had almost consumed his entire fish while the rest of them had barely made it halfway. He swallowed down his barely chewed mouthful, and this time Hannibal was surprised _he_ was the one able to refrain turning his nose up at him.

 

“Oh, right, how very unmindful of me, but you had me quite engrossed in this dish of yours,” he grinned as he picked up his wineglass, and Hannibal managed a strained smile. “Well, you see, you haven’t been at the club lately, and we’ve been discussing Mr. Bernadone…”

 

“Peter?” Will suddenly looked up from trying to help Abigail, confusion written plain across his features. Will had, as stated, never truly enjoyed moving about the social elite, and he had found an ally in the slightly odd Mr. Bernadone, and had grown endearingly protective of him.

 

“Yes, well, he’s been going _kind of crazy_ lately,” Ingram continued while giving them a pointed look, too absorbed in his own self-importance to notice that neither Will nor Hannibal shared his boasting. In fact, Will’s eyes clouded over in that way Hannibal knew could only mean murder, and he was quite exhilarated by the fact. “And Hannibal, you _must_ see why we must revoke his membership at the club, it would not be sustainable for us to keep a lunatic in the _Caballus_.”

 

Will took a rough sip of his wine in a vain attempt at trying to control his feelings, what Hannibal had learned was a signature move amongst the Grahams. And Hannibal smiled over the brink of his own glass, interested to see where this new turn of events would lead them.

 

“I am not entirely sure I’m following you, Clark,” he said as he put down the glass, applying even more pressure to this exposed nerve. And as he did, he met Bedelia’s eyes across the table as she took a long sip of wine, holding that bone deep weariness that only hers could.

 

“Well we got to kick him out!” Ingram was all but boisterous now, comfortably leaning back in his chair as he owned the room, his clamorous voice echoing against the walls. Hannibal smiled in unadulterated delight, Margot eyed the whole party warily, and Will was all but seething. “We’ve got a _reputation_ to withhold here, Hannibal,” he said as he tilted his glass in a faux toast before sipping on it. But as soon as the crimson liquid met his lips, he spat it out again, scattering all across the ivory tablecloth.

 

The red wine had taken on quite the scarlet shade, and his lips and tongue and teeth were tainted by it, shining brightly in the candlelight. And they all watched on in fascination as he spluttered, the red dripping from his hands and chin.

 

“That… That’s not wine…” He managed to croak in horror as he watched the sanguine liquid from his toppled wineglass seep into the cloth, spreading like violent claws digging into the ebony table.

 

And all in the matter of a few seconds, Hannibal felt the familiar swoop of Beverly sweeping past his neck, Alana noticed the feathers fluttering again as Abigail giggled in sheer delight. Then the chandelier dropped from the ceiling, all but missing landing straight in Mr. Ingram’s lap, the centerpiece suddenly scattered to life and flew off, the stag skull gaining wings and perched high on top of the mantelpiece, darting past Ingram and causing him to fall out of his chair.

 

“You know what, _forget it_ ,” he sputtered as he scrambled to his feet again, blood still dripping from his chin, his hair standing on ends and a wild look enriching his eyes. “Forget it _all_ , forget the club Hannibal, you can forget ever setting a foot…” But the stag screeched before he had the chance to finish, a guttural and distorted sound, and Ingram screamed, high pitched and shrill, and then he dashed out of the room.

 

They all followed his exit with mild disinterest, Bedelia being the first to break their little daze by reaching out for her wineglass again. Jack set about putting out the small fires the crashing candles had caused on the blood drenched table cloth, and Margot and Alana rose from their seats to try and coax down their new pet from the fireplace.

 

“That man is insufferable,” Hannibal finally concluded as he took another sip of wine, Abigail laughing gleefully by his side as she continued to splatter with her food.

 

* * *

 

Once she had learned how to crawl, they were _all_ doomed.

 

There was no point in trying to keep track of her, it was an impossible deed either way, so they just let her go about her business, exploring the house however she saw most fit. She was a smart and tough little girl, and never got herself into situations that she couldn’t get out of. And even if she would, she had a scream that would easily locate her.

 

One morning she had laughed wickedly as Will had picked her up to get ready for the day, and he had known she was up to no good. And when he had let her down on the floor to go on her daily escapades after breakfast, she had prattled on mirthfully to herself as she had crawled out of the dining room. He had offered Hannibal a worried glance, but he had just shrugged before returning to his newspaper.

 

The afternoon had been unusually peaceful. Margot and Alana had blown up the model trains, Jack had wrestled Randall and Will and Hannibal had gone their regular morning fencing duel. And the few times he had intercepted his daughter, she had been content in just watching Frederick work or was cheerfully playing with Miriam.

 

And by lunchtime, he had almost entirely forgotten the curious start of the day.

 

But as he and Hannibal set out to fetch their wandering daughter and bring her to lunch and naptime, they were met with quite the scene as they walked into the living room.

 

The entire room was spinning. Or, more correctly, every single object present in the room of that time was. Furniture, sculptures and various ornaments all hurtling through the air, crashing into one another and flying out through the windows. Poor old Matthew was torn off the wall, Hannibal’s drawings flittered hither and thither and all of Will’s fishing equipment disintegrated right in front of his eyes.

 

And in the midst of the chaos was little Abigail, lying on her back and enjoying the show on display above her while giggling madly.

 

Hannibal and Will could only look on as their living room all but fell to pieces in front of them, and inspect the mayhem as the commotion finally slowed down. A fear slowly burned its way up the back of Will’s neck, a distress that gently buried its claws into his mind, letting a terror steadily seep into his bones.

 

_Something wasn’t right here._

 

“Darling, did you leave the stove on?” He finally asked as he turned to face his husband. He watched as Hannibal mentally retraced his steps, his eyes widening imperceptibly as he arrived back in the kitchen. And the corners of his lips curled slightly as he reached out to gently nudge at Will’s chin.

 

“Always so perceptive.”

 

He smiled as he watched Hannibal turn back into the kitchen, before stepping over a broken glass vase to make his way over to Abigail, who was still giggling softly. But before he had the chance to reach down and pick her up, heavy footsteps scurried down the stairs, and he looked up to see a creature with wild turquoise fur, who on closer inspection turned out to just be Alana.

 

“Okay, _who_ can explain this?” She asked with weary exasperation, clearly indicating her now dyed hair. And Will could barely contain his smile as he looked down wonderingly at his daughter.

 

And she just laughed gleefully.

 

* * *

 

It had been a wonderfully dreary February night, the snow laying heavy and thick and quieting the entire world, the moon high in the sky and seeping in through the narrow windows of Bedelia’s study. The gloomy room was soundless apart from the soft creaking of her shuffling footsteps against the old floorboards, her shushed French lullaby and the weak snoring of the small bundle she was cradling in her arms.

 

Abigail had fallen into to a fleeting sleep a good ten or so minutes or so ago, but Bedelia was still humming softly, the small girl immediately starting squirming the moment she dared stop. She was a restless sleeper, and even more so when her fathers were out of the house, and it took a special touch to actually get her to doze off.

 

Bedelia had never wished for children. She found them noisy and bothersome at best, and all kinds of nuisances at worst. She had never seen the golden glimmer of the physical labor of bringing a child to the world, only to have them disturb your entire life for all of time to come.

 

But she had been oddly enchanted by the small baby girl in her arms. Abigail was extraordinary in every sense imaginable, and Bedelia could feel herself softening by her very presence. She inspired a sentimentality she had never experienced before, a need to look after and protect. It was discerning and endearing all at the same time, and Bedelia was quite charmed by the experience.

 

Turning around at the soft knock on her door, her thoughts were interrupted as Jack’s head appeared in her doorway.

 

“You able to lull her to sleep?”

 

She smiled carefully as she looked down at the peacefully resting girl which she was still rocking softly.

 

“Well, _someone_ has to now that Will and Hannibal are out hunting,” she answered with a wicked incisiveness in her voice, before inclining her head to press a tender kiss to the girl’s forehead. “And I do have my tricks,” she continued as she raised her eyes to meet Jack’s begrudgingly amused ones. “But only for short naps, so far. It’s still only her fathers who are able to lure her into a proper sleep.”

 

Abigail twisted in her sleep, as if reminded that it really was the wrong embrace she was sleeping in. But she settled quickly enough, and Bedelia had to struggle to not let Jack see the way her heart swelled in her chest as he inspected them.

 

“She still doesn’t trust anyone else?” He asked in a hushed voice as he tiptoed into the room.

 

“Maybe not.”

 

The fell into silence after that, letting Abigail dream sweetly as they watched her. Bedelia started her humming again as the silence filled the room and she swayed softly in her place. She had never cared for children, but she found that she very much enjoyed her little niece’s company.

 

“I’ve been thinking,” Jack suddenly interrupted as she had slowly taken up her lullaby again, and she quirked a sharp eyebrow at him, but he was as blissfully blithe as usual. “You still don’t go under the name ‘Lecter’.”

 

The observation made Bedelia stop in her tracks, her soft humming dying down entirely, and she finally looked up at her pseudo father-in-law properly and met his curious gaze.

 

“Well, I’m still not married into the family,” she started gingerly. “And I’m a Lecter in all the senses that matter,” she continued while giving Jack a pointed look.

 

But he didn’t shy away from her, just continued to inspect her calmly. And as Abigail slowly turned in her embrace, he smiled softly.

 

“You _like_ not sharing a name with your brother.”

 

His deduction had taken long enough to prepare her for the accusation though, and she just offered him a mysterious smile.

 

“Maybe.”

 

And before he really got the chance to push, Abigail whined sleepily while cracking a tired eye open and gazed up at Bedelia through thick eyelashes, a fairly accusing look in her tiny eyes, as if indignant that she had been lured into sleep, even if only for a few minutes.

 

“Nap over, darling?” She smiled as Abigail yawned lazily and snuggled closer into her embrace, obviously still tired but refusing to fall for the same ruse again. And so she and Jack watched on in gentle amusement as she slowly woke up, rubbing her tired little eyes with her small hands. But as she had somewhat regained full consciousness, she noticed Jack, and immediately exclaimed something unintelligible before reaching out to him.

 

“Oh, you wanna come to grandpa?” He asked in a lively voice as he reached out to her too, and Abigail giggled in delight. “ _You wanna come to grandpa?”_

 

Jack crooned over her, but Bedelia couldn’t help but to smile as she handed her over. And she was content in just watching them play, Jack being able to lure out the most rapturous of laughs from the little girl, filling up the entity of Bedelia’s otherwise so serene study.

 

But she found it was a quite agreeable change.

 

And she was quite transfixed by the sight up until something clattered vociferously from downstairs.

 

“We’re home!”

 

Her brother’s voice drifted lucidly up the stairs, along with a deep grunt from Hannibal and what sounded suspiciously like the rattle of chains, and Abigail’s head immediately turned by the sound, impatiently starting squirming in Jack’s embrace.

 

“Now, now, calm down missy, we’re _going_ to go see them,” Jack chuckled as he wrestled with the very small but extremely determined little being. “But we have to allow them to clean up first. We can’t have _you_ getting blood all over your new dress now, can we?”

 

And Abigail whined petulantly, patience never having been her strong suit.

 

* * *

 

Will slowly made his way up the rickety stairs up to their east wing tower, careful to not step through any of the rotten steps. The tower was unilluminated, lurking shadows and creeping peril filling up the narrow space. But as Will got closer, he could just make out the outlines of a mellow sonnet, hummed in the gentlest of baritones.

 

As he had finally made it to the top of the stairs, his eyes adjusting to the gloom, he just stood by for a while, watching Hannibal sway softly as he securely lulled Abigail to sleep.

The sonnet reached its peak, Hannibal’s rich voice rising with it, just as a gust of wind grabbed hold of the structure, perturbing their very foothold.

 

And Will smiled.

 

“She’s asleep?”

 

He treaded softly over the floorboards, his voice barely even a whisper. But Hannibal immediately turned around to face him, lips splitting into a wicked smile at the sight of him. Will tenderly kissed his cheek in return, and he heard Hannibal’s breath hitch, his eyes burning brightly in the darkness.

 

“Just about,” he exhaled, even though Will could tell his mind had wandered far away from the small creature he was cradling in his arms. Will gave him a pointed look, and he at least had the decency to look somewhat abashed as he returned his attention to Abigail.

 

The sky was dark above them as she shifted somewhat in Hannibal’s embrace, snoring softly. And they just stood watching over their peacefully sleeping daughter for a long while, imagining what extraordinary horrors her dreams could possibly be made out of as they listened to the midwinter blizzard rush by outside.

 

“She is going to grow up to one beautiful young lady,” Hannibal murmured softly as he propped her up higher in his elbow, Abigail unconsciously snuggling closer to him in the process. Will took a moment to relish in the love swelling in his heart before he replied.

 

“With incisors as sharp and claws as lethal as her father’s.”

 

Hannibal smiled at him, a pure and unrestrained smile that Will was one of the few, Abigail now being the other, able to lure out of him. He was pleased to see him rendered speechless for a while, Hannibal’s otherwise so slick tongue slackening in his presence. That was, until said tongue darted out to lick at already ripe lips as he held Will’s gaze intently.

 

“You were magnificent tonight, Will. I could never tire of your beauty underneath the moonlight.”

 

Then it was time for Will’s breath to hitch, and he had to try his damndest not to blush. Their hunt was still so fresh in memory, and he could much to easily recall how Hannibal had looked earlier that night, elbow deep in blood and bile splattered all across his face, and he had to inhale deeply to not overexcite himself. And considering how Abigail was still sleeping serenely in Hannibal’s arms, Will settled on simply caressing his face, Hannibal immediately leaning into his touch.

 

“ _Mon bête._ ”

 

He realized his mistake the moment the words spilled over his lips, but it was too late. Hannibal’s eyes blazed up like a shooting star, Lucifer himself falling from the world above, and he all but swooped Will up into his arms.

 

“ _Caro mio!”_ He cried as he twisted a strong arm around Will’s waist and pressed them close together, his lips already hovering over Will’s own as Abigail whined sorely from her place squeezed uncomfortably in between them. And Will couldn’t contain the laugh that rose in his chest by the sight of his husband’s confused countenance as he apparently suddenly remembered the small girl he had previously labored so to get to sleep.

 

“Hannibal,” he scolded him affectionately. “The _baby_.”

**Author's Note:**

> This may just be about the silliest and most fun things I have ever written.
> 
> And that is saying quite a lot.
> 
> I'm really just a huge sap, okay? Give me squishy family feels every day of the week.
> 
> I don't know what else to say, really. This has been in the works for a little over a month now, and it feels a little weird to finally launch it now, after so many hours of brainstorming, drafting and endless of time just staring at the computer screen in search for the right word. But I'm also excited, as this truly is one of the most fun projects I've ever worked on.
> 
> And I hope it was worth the wait darling!!
> 
> Little baby Abigail is also _heavily_ influenced by my little niece, and, well... If you think she's weird, just know that there's _plenty_ of weird families even in this very real world of ours.


End file.
